


Something like Shakespeare (except with more sex and blood)

by MarbleAide



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Jimcest - Freeform, M/M, MorMorMor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Twincest, it will get more explicit as it goes, morbrook, mormor, severich
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleAide/pseuds/MarbleAide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian has always had one rule when it comes to him and his brother's life of killing: Stay out of Moriarty's way. And, really, it's an easy rule to follow up until Severin decides he's in love with Richard Brook, Jim's twin brother and (part time) employee. Things go to hell pretty quickly as soon as Jim finds out. And neither Jim or Sebastian are pleased in the least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prologue (or how Severin's dick fucks it up for everyone)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time really writing with the four of these guys, so I'm still working out the kinks with some of them... it'll get messier and hotter as it progresses. Got to build up to the good stuff after all!
> 
> Also, this was written on a very long bus ride. Hopefully it doesn't show too badly! Enjoy!

It was a beautiful day. Late spring, soon to turn into summer, with the sky above bright blue with only a wisp of clouds; an odd break in the usual grey dread and rain. The sun shone strong, but it was just warm enough to be comfortable. People went outside to parks, walking down the streets to window shop, all the usual spring-time events that involved light clothing and the outdoors. Birds flew about, swooping down to collect crumbles from pastries and tweet and coo at passerby’s that walked about the sidewalks.

Beautiful, bright, in every sense of the word, and here Severin was, sitting outside a little café drinking some coffee shit waiting to get the signal to go kill a guy. For almost five hours.

His leg kept twitching.

Which might have been partially due to this being his sixth coffee-based drink—he’d gotten tired of all the flowery and fruity teas after his third cup—and at this point in his life, he could have sworn he could actually taste colors. For instance, the horrible off-white mug he was currently drinking out of tasted like utter shit. Or, rather, that might just be his tongue finally shriveling up on him and decided to die. Either way, he was tired of sitting there with his body twitching while going through the entire menu at this coffee shop to see which would kill him first—the massive amount of caffeine overdose or the boredom.

Fuck, he needed a muffin.

That, and he needed to take a piss.

He heard the voice ring out in his ears as soon as he turned on the faucet to wash his hands. “You do realize you’re a shit hitman, yeah?”

Severin rolled his eyes with a huff, shaking off his wet hands before finishing the drying process on his jeans. “And do you realize you just listened to me piss, right? I mean, come on, Seb, I know we’re brothers and all…”

A growl echoed through the ear piece, making Severin chuckle as he walked back out to order his muffin (except, of course, as soon as he noticed those chocolate chip scones his mind was changed all together and it had walnuts. Perfect.)

“Just get back outside and wait for the target!” His brother barked in his ear, making him wince ever so slightly with the raised voice. The girl behind the counter looked at him strangely, head tilted to the side and mouth parted to ask—Severin knew from one too many encounters like this—to see if he was alright. It was easier to act stupid and claim the little ear piece was a blue-tooth headset and that, yes, he was one of those inconsiderate douchebags then try to explain why he had to be on constant call with his older brother.

Not like they were planning a murder or anything.

“Taking too long on my lunch break.” Severin grinned sheepishly at the young girl. “Boss isn’t too happy. Thanks!” If she wasn’t so dazed right now, she might notice that he was dressed in jeans and a simply non-descript blue shirt and had been sitting in the stupid café ordering drink after drink from her for most of the afternoon—that, and it was almost three o’clock. Little late for lunch, really. But, alas, all Severin had to do was smile and wink and there were no further questions asked (not that there were any real questions asked in the first place and not that his charms ever got him anywhere fast).

“You’re an idiot.” His brother’s voice once against erupted in his ear as soon as he took a seat at his claimed table once more. Pigeons were starting to crowd around him, which might have been because he was bored enough to feed them and his first two attempts at what appeared to be delicious baked goods ended up being spit out and thrown on the ground (because, serious, who ACTUALLY liked to vegetables in their bread?).

“Mhm. You’re just jealous.” Severin hummed, eyes now trained to the streets as he watched all the people once more, happily munching on his scone. “I could have snagged her number if I wanted to.”

“…You’re gay.”

“Doesn’t mean I’d have to call her! Just proving a point.”

There was a pause and then, “That you can pick up girls that look like they’re still in grade school?”

Severin scoffed, rolling his eyes even though he knew Sebastian couldn’t technically see him and he was just trying to defend his pride. She had to be at least nineteen. (He risked a glance back into the shop, watching the girl giddily serve another customer their drink and pastry. She smiled and her teeth were filled with metal. Severin winced. Okay, maybe seventeen. Still legal.) “That I can still get more ass then you, even with your ‘fuck-everyone’ advantage.”

He heard a little scoff/growl combination over their line, knowing that Sebastian was trying to decide if he wanted to keep arguing this or be the responsible one, as usual, and continue on with the job. Severin was almost hoping that he might have won and pissed his brother off enough to keep arguing, but as soon as he heard the exaggerated sigh (visioning fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose) Severin knew that his brother was going down the professional route instead. One day, just once, he’d win out and get his brother to lose the cool on a job. It would be fun.

“Just keep your eyes open, will ya’? He should be due any second.”

That’s what Sebastian said about two hours ago.

“I’d say you’re either wrong, or this guy has the fucking stamina of a damned horse. I mean, how long does it actually take to fuck some whore? Not like you need to take her out for dinner first—“

His voice cut off as his eyes trailed back and forth, pausing as they fell on a new figure who sat on the opposite end of the café’s patio, the seat newly taken up in the last fifteen minutes because Severin could swear up and down that he would have noticed him before. He sat relaxed with his body eased back into the iron chair, one leg thrown over the other as he sipped on what Severin could identify as either an iced coffee or chai tea (he’d had both today and much preferred the chai himself). He read a book—‘A Child’s Book of Stories’?—with his lips quirked up in a little smirk that Severin wanted to take a picture of to keep forever while, at the same time, wanting to see those lips do so many other things, most of which were probably not appropriate to be thinking in public.

The male was cute in a soft way, messy dark brown hair and big round eyes that Severin couldn’t quite see the color of with his head downcast reading like that. He wore a low cut v-neck that exposed a long neck, pale, leading down an unmarked collar and all Severin could think of in his quickly short-circuiting brain was:

‘Oh, fuck, yes please.’ 

Later, when he was back at the flat, he might acknowledge that, maybe, he was drooling just a tiny bit over this newly discovered beautiful obsession, because the more he looked the more Severin thought that he needed this man in his life and in his bed right now. Somehow, he finally managed to close his mouth and stop the birds from coming to peck at the mouthful of scone still sitting there, wiping the saliva from his lips with the back of his hand and swallowed. Right.

It didn’t hit him until he was standing up to go talk to the gorgeous stranger that his brother was yelling in his ear. It took him another second to realize how the sounds formed into works enough to listen.

“—ucker get your head out of your ass and go get him!”

He had to pause for another second to wonder why his brother was pushing him to totally go tap-that.

“…What?”

“The target! The fucking target just passed by!”

Oh, right.

“Right. But—“

“No ‘buts’ you prick, go after him or I swear to fucking Christ!”

Severin winced, not wanting to know what his brother would do to him if he fucked up this job after waiting for five hours for it. It was supposed to be a simple hit-and-run anyway. He turned quickly, scanning the crowds to eye their target’s head disappearing further down the street from him. He looked back at the man reading the book at the café. Fuck.

With a heavy groan and an even heavier heart, Severin threw the rest of his pastry to the floor for the birds before darting out of the patio area to run off down the street, telling Sebastian he had the target insight and was gaining, ready to cut him off in the nearest alleyway to take care of everything.

There was a threat and confirmation in his ear that Severin didn’t hear, too concerned with keeping the target in his sights while at the same time wondering if the book-reader would still be at the coffee shop when he returned.

He really hoped so.

\---

When he was done, panting hard with his knuckles bloodied, Severin wiped a little sweat from his brow before pulling the body back behind the nearest dumpster, quickly searching the guy’s pockets for his wallet before discarding the body among the rubbish. Easy ‘mugging’ job, nothing horrible. He had to laugh softly to himself as he pulled out the guy’s wallet and found the number of the prostitute he’d slept with scribbled on a little motel paper pad, finished off with the red of lipstick-smeared lips. It was so cheesy, he couldn’t help it.

The sight of it, however, reminded Severin of his own little affections earlier. It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes now, maybe he’d get lucky. Maybe.

Quickly, Severin wiped the blood from his hands and made it look like he didn’t just beat the ever living shit out of a guy in a back alley before moving out of it nonchalantly to walk—fast, but controlled—back to the café, hoping, hoping, hoping—

His hopes quickly died as he saw the table was now empty and there was no sight of his stranger anywhere. Damnit.

“Is it done?” The question came, surprising Severin out of his absent staring. He blinked, pulling his gaze away from the empty iron tables and the pidgeons roaming around for crumbles.

“Yeah,” He replied, licking his lips before finally turning away. “Yeah, it’s done. Clean kill. I’m coming back now.”

And he did so, empty handed and feeling like he’d missed out on something special.


	2. The part where Severin is sort of a stalker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes in this. My mind is so fried.
> 
> There will be porn in the next chapter.
> 
> Of the Jim/Rich variety. Woohoo~

He returned to the flat feeling somber and it wasn’t because he was still itching dried blood from his knuckles, a mix of both his own and the man’s he left to rot in an alley. Normally after a kill he was too pumped up on adrenaline to want to do anything more than kill someone else, because there is just something about watching the light slowly fade away in someone’s eyes that just really makes him jittery to slit someone else’s throat. Now, with the caffeine finally making its way through his system, all Severin wanted to do was take a shower and laze about on the sofa. The shower bit really wasn’t anything new—people died dirty whenever Severin got a hold of them. It wasn’t all clean cut like Sebastian’s kills (fifty meters away with a gun and a split second before the kill, no fun at all. Plus all that waiting! It was bad enough Severin had to wait around all day for this kill, let alone every damned target he went out to go bludgeon to death! He’d have gone insane a long time ago.)

However, even when he’s not randy enough to go killing their neighbors across the hall, Severin still can’t get peace.

Sebastian was waiting for him, sitting at the kitchen table with the butt of a cigarette dying between his fingertips, his other hand flipping through a variety of open files on the table, scanning through information before determining whether or not the job was worth it and throwing each into respectable piles. Severin knew which one was which as the declined jobs were always stacked so much higher, which irritated Severin whenever he looked at them. Each job was worth money—money enough to keep them fat and happy for a long while, but his overly cautious _darling_ of a big brother always made the final decision. Most of the time it wasn’t the price that matter, but who the job was for.

Without saying a word, Severin pulled out the wallet from his pocket and threw it across the table to his brother. He hoped, for just a second that maybe Sebastian was too in depth in his reading to want to make a snide comment about his job. Of course, it wasn’t that easy to sneak off even when Sebastian’s eye wasn’t trained on him.

“You almost missed the target.”  Was the first thing out of Sebastian’s mouth and, almost instantly, Severin winced with it, but that didn’t mean he was just going to roll over and take it.

“Yeah? And you had me waiting there for almost six fucking hours for the guy.” Severin stood his ground and crossed his arms, refusing to let Sebastian have this one. He wasn’t in the mood. “You didn’t give me a time—“

“I got the date!”

“You slept with a whore!” 

A fist hit the table and suddenly Sebastian was standing. It was a low blow, Severin knew, something stupid that he’d just thrown out. It wasn’t like that information was new—they’d both slept with plenty of streetwalkers in their days and it would most likely not be ending anytime soon. Severin was simply tired and irritated and knew exactly how to stab his brother between the ribs.

Silence fell on them both for a long while, two sets of blue eyes just a few shades off glared back into the other, waiting for each to blink and break the tension.

This time around, it was Sebastian who pulled back first, seeming to not want a fight right now, which was perfectly fine by Severin as he didn’t know how long he could last if he really got his brother going. Besides, he didn’t want to have to go out and buy a new table or chairs for the second time that month.

“You got distracted, Sev. That’s the bottom line.”  

He still wasn’t going to take it, but now he lowered his voice, decided not to go for the jugular and just get it over with as soon as possible so he could shower and sleep. “I got the target. Bottom line.” The words were weaker, so Sebastian simply glanced up at him before sitting back down at the table, eyes drawn into who needed who killed and for what price and reason.

The quiet wasn’t a signal to leave, however, so with a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes, Severin pulled out the chair opposite Sebastian’s—the legs purposefully scrapping loud against the aluminum tiled floor, the dark scuff marks under it present as a memory of whenever Severin was irritated.

It takes approximately two minutes and seven seconds for Sebastian to finish sifting through the file he had in his hand, drag out the last lungful from his cigarette before burning it out in the piled up ashtray beside him and light another one. It felt like hours. Severin swore he was drowning in front of his father instead of his damned brother only three years older. He hated it.

“What did it?” His brother asked, finally, in a way that just meant he was curious, but Severin knew it was because Sebastian wanted to know what went wrong and how to make him better.

He thought about brown hair that looked soft as the breeze went by. A smile that he wanted to hear the laugh that followed. Eyes that he wanted to see both crinkled around the edges and blown wide and black and barely open at all, arms above a head, mouth opened in a little gasp, hips—

Severin blinked, looking at his brother, but didn’t meet his eyes. Focused on the right side of his face, following the thin trail of scars down his cheek and under his jaw, too pale against tan skin.

He had to answer.

“Just got bored.” He said with a lie on his tongue, but it was so well practiced that Sebastian barely ever caught on. They were both so good at reading each other and, in doing so, both so good at hiding from the other. In plain sight. He shrugged, moving his vision from scars to his brother’s own gaze, locking him in this time. “My mine wandered too far. You know how I get with waiting like that; can’t concentrate. My legs twitch.”

It was clear that Sebastian wasn’t quite fooled, but there were too many other things racing through his mind to worry about this one. At least, that’s what Severin hoped the case was.

Luckily, after another minute of staring each other down with the classic game of who’s-balls-are-bigger between them, the elder gave in and let it be.

“Just don’t let it happen again.”

The words were final, settling, leaving the room still feeling thick, but all over finished. Severin beamed visibly and he could clearly see his brother’s shoulders stiffen as he got up from his chair with another loud scratch against the floor. Sebastian always hated whenever he got giddy like this, never knew how to handle it without a tall glass of whiskey and the rest of the bottle close by.

Severin went down the hall with a grin on his face, feeling much more at ease and ready to washing all the blood and annoyance from his body.

He certainly wouldn’t let such a thing happen again, after all.

\---

The next morning he woke up early and by ‘early’ he meant ‘up before Sebastian’, which technically meant he shouldn’t have even slept, really. Military life had Sebastian trained and the added sense of ‘duty’ made it so he woke up at four o’clock almost exactly every day. The sun wasn’t even up yet and Sebastian had already started on his first cup of coffee and his third set of pull ups. Severin almost regretted throwing that damned chin-up bar to his brother last Christmas, but it was better than fixing holes in the walls from how many times he broke something off from hanging by it.

His digital clock read 3:46am when he blinked awake, groaning loud and cursed silently to himself about how his fucker of a brother needed to just relax for once and sleep in. This ‘waking up’ thing was ridiculous. He would attempt to drug him, but the last time he tried to be the good little brother and give him a quote-unquote day off, he ended up with a broken nose and a black eye and a brother who just bitched and cursed from the couch for a while as his body finally started to get feeling in it again.

Anyway, the reason why he was getting up this early and avoiding his brother at all cost please-jesus-don’t-wake-up-and-make-this-difficult was because he needed to figure out if he had any new jobs that day without getting any questions about asking.

He did not want to explain to his brother why he needed the day off to go stalk someone he saw at a café for two minutes in hopes of finding him again to fuck him in the bathroom stale or possible after dinner. With under the table hand-jobs in between. Of course.

Because, well…

That’s exactly what he was going to do.

\---

He was going on seven hours, twenty-two various drinks (the last six being caffeine-free), ten different types of pastry, three missed calls from Sebastian, too many bathroom trips to remember, and a missing in action beautiful stranger that he had fantasized about fucking fifty different ways to Sunday.

Severin was about twelve seconds away from insanity and four away from going into the bathroom to wank until his fingers or dick fell off—whatever came first. About three hours in, he was getting eyed up by the same possibly-underage bistro girl from the day before and he knew it was because _‘Hi, I’m an insane creep who comes to cafes all day to eat your supply of not-shit scones and glare really, really, hard at every person who passes by.’_ Just a little bit worth questioning. And staring at. He wondered how much longer he could stay there before the girl finally broke and just decided to call the police on him, because there was no fucking way he was going to leave until they kicked him out or he found the man again.

If he was being realistic, he would admit to himself that, yes, it was a total long shot that the same stranger would come back to the same café around the same time the next day unless he had some sort of schedule that made it so he came here every day. But there were hundreds of stupid coffee shops and thousands of stupid people and only one stranger with the cute-smile and the storybook and a very, very, very, slim chance.

But he could hope.

Right?

On hour eight, he was ready to give up, call it a day, because this was hopeless. Severin had already spent close to hundred quid on overpriced drinks and food with the thought of Sebastian tearing him a new one when he got home because he hadn’t talked to him all day and only mentioned ‘going out’ as an excuse to run out to attempt-stalk someone. He was drowning in misery and coffee-based drinks.

Getting up to throw his trash away inside is when Severin heard it, which was stupid as all hell because it’s not even like he’d ever heard the man talk, but something just screamed _‘turn the fuck around!’_   inside him which got him spinning on his heels fast enough to almost give him whiplash.

And there he was.

Satchel hanging from his shoulder, child’s book gripped in his hand, a red cardigan hanging loosely from his shoulders as he thanked the girl behind the counter for his chai tea (because Severin could smell it and heard it being said in his voice and Jesus, his voice!). It was soft spoken with a sing-song sway and the underline little ting of Irish heritage that was making Severin’s ears simply crave more.

It was a bad idea, really bad idea, but Severin couldn’t help it as he slipped up behind his soon-to-not-be-stranger and waited for him to turn around.

The ‘Oh, god!’ he got for his troubles was not exactly how smooth he would have liked it all to turn out, but Severin reveled in the fact that he got to see those big eyes go even wider (brown, dark chocolate brown big doe eyes) and his lips part in a gasp. His hand reached out and snapped up the iced tea before it could hit the floor, smiling sweetly as he handed it back.

Hesitantly, with a very nervous gaze going between his drink and Severin’s face, the stranger took back his cup and settled his gaze, finally, with Severin’s own. He looked hopelessly frightened and impressed at the same time.

“Thank you…I think. That was…quite lucky for me.” That beautifully sweet voice said, only making the blonde smile that much wider.

“No, it’s entirely my fault. I didn’t realize you’d, well, jump that far.”

A blush appeared bright on pale cheeks, making Severin feel like he’d hit the jack-pot of most adorably-fuckable men in London.

“I’m Severin, by the way.” He said when no further reply came. “And could I…possibly buy you a drink?”

_(Stupid, stupid, you’re in a fucking coffee shop and he’s already got a fucking drink you stupid—)_

A little snicker erupted in his ears, dragging Severin’s attention back to the smaller man who was standing there laughing softly with a hand covering his mouth. Even though Severin greatly wanted to see how pretty the other smiled over and over again, he could not get over the fact that it was the most adorable little gesture he’d seen in a very long time. That might also have to do with spending most of his time around prostitutes, criminals, and his brother.

Once the little fit of giggles had been gotten under control, the hand was removed. “I’m sorry, I’ve just—“ another little giggle. He saw the smile and memorized it forever, put it as his brain’s screensaver in hopes of always going back to it, needing more of those to file away under ‘Why I need to date this man immediately’. “—I don’t think I’ve ever been hit on in a coffee shop before.”

“And is that bad?”

He caught the very quick flicker of eyes, down and up, and gave a little knowing smirk of his own that matched this stranger’s when their stares met again.

“Not at all. But,” Severin felt his heart sink with that word, bite down on his tongue, yet didn’t let it show in his face. “I’ve actually got to…got to go now. Could, could we possibly reschedule?”

Oh, _oh_ , well, that was good. Very good. Even better.

Severin hide the massive amounts of joy screaming inside him, putting out an all too cool exterior that only gave him away by the widening of his lips.

“I think I’d really like that. How about this Friday?”

The other male’s smile fell this time. Severin caught something calculating in his eyes and thought that maybe he’d done something; said something wrong. Shit.

“I—I can’t.” Came the little stuttered out reply. The man shifted awkwardly from one side to the other, suddenly finding anything but Severin much more interesting to stare at. “I’ve got, ah, plans this Friday night.”

Again, Severin’s hopes were shot down. He instantly thought of another person, boyfriend, girlfriend, whoever they were they already had a claim. He felt his blood run cold and the predator in him start to come out, wanting nothing more than to kill the competition and claim the adorable man before him for his own.

“Right, sorr—“

“No, no!” The soft voice stepped in, piping up a little louder to stop Severin from turning away. The man looked worried, licking at his bottom lip nervously, pink tongue flicking out and teeth soon to follow, chewing slightly at the skin. “It’s not—it’s not that. I mean, it’s not—it’s just my brother.”

Hopes once more up. Still possible. Going for it.

“He just hates it when I cancel on him. I mean…ah, could we possibly—“

“Saturday I’m free if you are.” He smiled again and, in return, got a smile back. Another one to file away. “Go for dinner around seven and buy you a proper drink.”

They are quiet for just a moment, staring with content at one another right before the stranger jolts with a little ‘Oh!’ and he’s suddenly rushing to the nearest free table, searching through his bag with a quiet little ‘hold on’ here and a ‘sorry, sorry’ there. It took a minute, but finally Severin took notice over the other’s shoulder of the little sheet of scrap paper he was quickly scribbling on, turning back with a warm smile as he stepped up to Severin, just a little closer than before.

At this distance (small, very small, he could smell the warm apple shampoo in his hair) he could see the finer details of the man’s face, the little wrinkle lines along his brow, the mole on his neck, the caramel color of his eyes in the clearer light, and the fact that he was a full head shorter then Severin. Perfect.

“I live in the complex just a block down. Call me if anything changes, alright?”

Severin took the slip and suddenly the stranger was walking away from him, taking the fresh scent of chai tea and orchards with him, looking back only to wave with two fingers as the others still held tight to his book. Mouth hanging open ever so slightly, all Severin could do was wave back and watch him go until he disappeared from view, down the road blending in until he felt like just a memory.

Except he wasn’t. He was real and Severin had gotten his number and a date. And a name.

Richard Brook.

He wasn’t just a stranger anymore.


End file.
